Humanity
by NeonZangetsu
Summary: "I leave her in your care, Ulquiorra." A simple task, surely. But she was of light, the very definition of purity. He was corruption; and her very prescence became the bane of his existence; this frail and fragile creature called Inoue Orihime. Ulqixhime
1. Chapter 1

Orihime sat on her bed in Hueco Mundo. She had been bushing her long thin black hair with a small silver comb. It had stars and small flowers on the front side of it. Orihime had died her hair black after a long time. In a way she believed it would help her fit in if it was a different color along the lines of black or blond. Orihime was wearing an ankle length dress with two different layers. It was white with a few black outlining and it had been a little ruffled at the bottom. Her hair was up in a low pony tail, with two ribbons attached, consisting of the colors baby blue and white.

Orihime had her room decorated with clouds. Her bed cover was a silky white with a pillow as soft as well… a bunch of fluff. She had a nightstand next to her bed which had flowers and a few long pieces of quarts in a vase. She also had a diary that held her biggest secret.

"Orihime… I believe it's time you ate…" A familiar voice said walking into the room.

"Yes… Thank you Ulquiorra… Before I do so though can I know how my friends are doing? Are they okay? Please inform me as to their status." Orihime said in a polite and still kind of worried tone.

He hesistated.

"They...are coming to rescue you."

Her eyes seemed to light up.

"Oh!"

Immediately, he wanted to dull the passion in her eyes. He wanted to tell her with the cold logic that was his own, that they would fail, that they stood no chance against Aizen. He wanted to stamp her down, to tell her that it was useless to cling to this facade.

But something deep, deep down resisted this cold, practical urge. It was strange. He did not feel himself when she was nearby. He had accepted the task to watch over her, but only because Aizen-sama requested it off him.

"I...must go."

--

The shinigami looked towards the shaft of pale light above them, now broken with the silhouette of a slim figure. The man descended the steps, slowly revealing his pallor, matching that of the light outside. But his eyes blazed a cold, crystalline emerald, tearstains below and black hair moving in the breeze coming from the door. His half-mask obscured one side of his face, but the eye cast in shadow gleamed demonically nonetheless. He walked down the stairs as if he were a prince, yet there was a smoothness in his gait that betrayed his power.

He was familiar.

It was he who had stopped Grimmjow from killing him weeks earlier.

The shinigami put Nel on the ground, where she scuttled away to hide—he had no quarrel with this Arrancar, but that didn't mean that the Arrancar had no quarrel with him.

The Arrancar took his time descending the steps, observing Ichigo as one would an interesting new species—but his gaze was full of murderous intent, as if he believed the two of them had been enemies all their lives. Ichigo adjusted Zangetsu on his back, the knife-like blade, as always, ready for the challenge. At the back of his mind, Hichigo stirred. The pale man stepped quietly from the staircase, his cold eyes never leaving those of the shinigami. Ichigo stood still as he walked silently past, and came to rest directly in the path that the shinigami had been planning to take.

Ichigo watched him, dumbfounded, for several moments.

"Why do you not draw your blade, shinigami?" the whitewashed Hollow asked silkily, his deep voice casting no echoes in the vast columned room. "I am in the way of your destination." Ichigo looked at him curiously for a moment—why was this Arrancar so obviously baiting him? His eyes saw the green-bound hilt of a zanpakouto resting at the Hollow's side.

He didn't have time for this.

Ichigo brushed past the green-eyed Arrancar, suppressing an involuntary shiver when he sensed the man's icy reiatsu. The Hollow didn't move, but Ichigo could feel his green eyes follow him as he walked near.

"I don't have any reason to fight you," said Ichigo, stopping to meet his gaze. He decided it wouldn't be wise to not answer his question. The Hollow's spiritual pressure was worrisome. Ichigo walked on, motioning to Nel to stay in the shadow of the staircase where she was hiding.

"That is very interesting," the deep silky voice replied, and shinigami and arrancar stopped and turned around; back towards the sinuous enemt, who stood lazily with his hands in his pockets, his back turned towards Ichigo as if the Soul Reaper were absolutely no threat whatsoever.

But now he was staring at _him_.

Ichigo's eyes narrowed—he had no fight with this Arrancar, but that didn't mean he had to like the man.

Who exactly was this guy?

_Goes by 'Ulquiorra',_ remarked Hichigo with an anticipatory sneer.

Ulquiorra turned his head slowly, and Ichigo caught the profile of his tearstained face, his wicked eyes hidden behind a mask of ebony found his body moving of its own accord, as he got in front of the arrancar.

"Outta the way. We have no business with you." He stated with authority.

"What if I told you, then, that I was the one who forced Orihime Inoue to come to Hueco Mundo?" he asked, his tone sprinkled with the merest hint of satisfaction. The shinigami stiffened as the Arrancar's tongue slid _easily_ over the human girl's name.

Ichigo's blood boiled.

Without hesitation, the shinigami _flew_ at the pale man, Zangetsu thrown in a wide swing, intent on cleaving Ulquiorra in two.

But the blade was halted almost immediately.

Ulquiorra had blocked it with his bare hand.

"I _knew_ it," growled Ichigo, struggling to do some damage—but it was like trying to cut into steel. "I knew you people kidnapped her—why would she come here otherwise?!" There was a pause, and Ichigo thought he saw the shadow of a smirk cross his opponent's waxen features.

"I see," Ulquiorra replied. "You came to rescue her even though you were unsure of her intentions. That is very interesting indeed."

With a swift flick of his wrist, the Hollow twisted Zangetsu around, and Ichigo had to tighten his grip to keep the blade in his hands.

In response, he leapt back, clearly enraged as he skidded to a halt several feet away.

"That's it!"

His brown eyes seemed to dance.

"I'll go at you with all I've got!"

Black red light began to flow from his hand into Zangetsu, slowly at first then faster, faster still, until he all but _screamed _the words.

"BANKAI!"

Red light enshrouded him...


	2. Takedown

In a matter of moments the room had been all but destroyed. The ryoka had been stronger than the Arrancar had believed him to be—but he was by no means invincible. As Ulquiorra had anticipated, his taunts had finally goaded the shinigami into action, and had made him reckless. His attacks were _irritatingly_ powerful, but most were wild and inaccurate. If they hadn't been such wide swaths of energy, the shinigami would have missed the Espada on numerous occasions.

It was time to end this—it wouldn't be wise to leave Orihime alone for any extended period of time. He knew better than anyone else that the inhabitants of the castle were not happy about her presence there. It was his, Ulquiorra's, nearly constant presence that kept the others at bay.

Without his mask, the ryoka could _obviously_ tell that his attacks weren't having any effect.

He leaped for an opening in the wall, perhaps in a mad attempt at escape with his allies, or perhaps only to rest for a moment or so. But Ulquiorra wasn't one to allow him that luxury. Time was of the essence.

He appeared in a blur beside the shinigami, whose astonished gaze met his in an instant, and then moved down to observe the orb of viridian Cero the Espada held in his palm; just before Ulquiorra released it at point-blank range.

Ichigo twisted to take the full impact, so as to spare Nel.

And it _hurt._

The shinigami flew back, crashing into an opposing tower far away. The Espada was there in an instant, just as the ryoka was pulling himself forcefully from the debris. Then, oddly enough, the shinigami began to laugh quietly. Ulquiorra felt an uncomfortable sensation over the tattoo just underneath his torn surcoat. The tip of the sleek black blade was pressed against his chest, though it trembled with the shinigami's effort to keep it placed there.

The ryoka looked up, his face fearless and arrogant.

"I guess you've got to be Aizen's most powerful, huh?" he asked, grinning. "So if I just take you out right now, it'll be a major blow to his little army, won't it?" Ulquiorra blinked once, his pale hand taking the slim edge of the obsidian sword and pushing it aside. The coat tore with its passage, revealing the ebony number four emblazoned in the Espada's stark white skin. His green eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the look of fading hope on the ryoka's battered countenance.

"Even if you were to somehow get past me, shinigami," Ulquiorra began quietly, "there are three others more powerful than myself lurking these halls." The Espada felt the Soul Reaper's tight grip begin to loosen at the hilt of his sword, but Ulquiorra held it steady at its tip. "But you do not have the capacity to best me, so it makes little difference."

Ulquiorra's other hand tautened, his fingers forming a deadly sharp point, but there was a moment of hesitation as the Espada remembered a time and place that had only a few seconds ago seemed so far away. He remembered the calm confidence in her sparkling blue-gray eyes as she spoke his name; he had taken a step back, though there was no reason to. He had promised her—but it was such a foolish pact. Why even consider it now?

The Espada struck; he all but grimaced to see the wounded shinigami faint in front of him while he withdrew. But the ryoka was alive all the same—it had been a calculated miss. Ulquiorra blinked down at his fallen foe, deciding that he was a complete fool, and that he would probably regret the decision later.

Yet he knew it didn't matter.

The alternative was unacceptable.


End file.
